


A Whisper in the Night

by hyliansassenach



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyliansassenach/pseuds/hyliansassenach
Summary: Claire Randall is seemingly content with her life. A satisfying job and suitable husband keep her thoughts occupied, until a string of reoccurring dreams has her longing for a life she has never lived, with a man that is not her husband.  A canon divergent fic in which Jamie and Claire communicate through their dreams before she fell through the stones, and how that would affect the rest of the story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever story because I just couldn't get the premise out of my head. Sorry for any mistakes and I hope you enjoy it!

Darkness. Then a startling white as the ghost of a touch fleetingly passes my spine. A solemn whisper as the brightness fades and his face reappears once more before me. The flaming mass of bright red curls framing his striking angular face. I know him, I don’t know where or how but my soul calls out for him from the murky depths where it currently resides. 

I take a moment to observe him. Astonishingly tall with broad muscular shoulders draped in full 18th century highlander regalia, with a kilt draped on his tapered waist. 

My mind knows this is a dream, yet my heart continues beating its restless staccato against my ribs calling for this familiar stranger. Pulled from my thoughts, a warmth engulfs my palm as he reaches for my hand and pulls me to him running his thumb across my knuckles. 

Pressed against his solid chest, my heart confirms its previous musings as I look up and stare into the depths of his blue eyes searching to find the answer to the question my mind keeps asking. He smiles softly as if he subconsciously understood, reaching up to brush the curls that had fallen into my eyes ‘‘Mo sorcha’’ he whispers. 

I inhale as soon as the words leave his lips as a rush of warmth washes over me with a feeling I was too afraid to examine. I didn’t understand him, but I feel a flicker of recognition spark inside me as if I had been called that my entire life. 

A sudden panic starts to invade me as I stride to recognise this phrase, this man, but most importantly this overwhelming emotion invading my every thought. 

He starts to sense my panic and through an almost instinctive move he cups my face with his startling large hands and looks imploringly into the depths of my eyes ‘‘It’s alright mo chride, dinna fash’’ he sooths as if he was calming a wild beast. My heart seems to melt at his words and he flashes a breath-taking smile, reading my impossibly glass face.

I look further into the depth of the vast ocean of his eyes, desperately trying to recognise him to no avail. 

He just shakes his head in understanding, still smiling. ‘‘Claire’’ he again whispers calling to me from an unknown plane and a feeling nudges my side. My vision starts to fade as a he calls louder, the picture of him blurring at the edges, my imagination beginning to be encompassed by an all-consuming darkness. 

A gut-wrenching anxiety floods my body, as though the thought of leaving him was tearing a limb from my body. I cry out, lunging to the man before he is lost on me forever, desperate to capture and contain the feelings he so abruptly conjured from me. 

‘’Claire!’’ I jolt awake from my dream to the hand of Frank jostling me awake rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ‘‘Rough dream?’’ he smiles fondly and pats me on the shoulder, leaving to the adjoining bathroom to begin his daily ablutions, and I feel an unexplainable guilt fall upon me. 

Staring up at the speckled celling of our London flat. I rub my wrist and shake the thoughts looming around in my head. Most importantly, I try shake the bitter feeling of betrayal that is starting to feel more common every morning I look into the hard lines of my husband’s face, knowing that this was definitely not the first time this mysterious highlander has haunted my dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you to all that read the first chapter and commented! It meant a lot to me as this is the first story I've written and was a bit anxious about posting it. Sorry for the wait for this chapter, I've just started my second year of university and everything's been very hectic, but I'll try to update more frequently when I find more time! I hope y'all enjoy it and again let me know if you want me to carry it on! :)

Pushing open the double doors of the ward, I rushed to my locker to prepare for the days work. On any other day, the calming presence that surrounds the hospital would have soothed me. But on the nights that I am visited by my mysterious guest, nothing is able to ease the multitude of thoughts raging inside my head. 

I’m so preoccupied with my thoughts, staring into the long metal door in front of me I don’t even sense someone approach until an arm slides around me and I am jolted back to reality. 

‘’Gillian!’’ I jerk away, hand clutching my chest ‘’you scared the life out of me!’’ 

Gillian and I met while working at the hospital. Both being previous WW2 nurses we had bonded quickly over the shared struggles of war, which morphed into a friendship quickly, after many shared bottles of whisky and inappropriate conversations. 

‘’I thought you were looking dead on your feet’’ I glared back at her amused green eyes and opened the locker, beginning to rummage inside. She ignored the look and moved closer to me once more ‘’you look fair fashed Claire, did ye have a rough night?’’ she questioned lightly. 

Boy was she right. 

I gazed into the mirror hung on the inside of the locker. Dark circles under my eyes, hair a wild mop, pathetically tamed into place and pale sickly-looking skin. 

‘fair fashed’ was more than right. 

I sighed and finished getting ready not in the mood for an interrogation so early in the morning. But ever relentless, Gillian was not one to give up so easily ‘’did your man keep you up all night?’’ she hinted with a suggestive wink. 

I immediately ducked my head to hide the flush that bloomed along my cheeks. A man had kept me up all night, a man who was most definitely not my husband as Gillian was suggesting. The guilty feeling returned and gathering all my composure before I lost it altogether I slammed closed my locker, surprising Gillian and declared with a semi stable smile ‘’everything is completely normal, just feel a tad sick’’ and began to walk toward the recovery rooms to begin my rounds with Gillian trailing behind me, catching up slowly. 

‘’more the pity, I was waiting to be regaled by your midnight escapades with that professor of yours’’ I rolled my eyes, willing this conversation to be over. ‘’I’ve seen his shoes Claire he looks like he’d be a fun ride’’ 

Scandalized I turned to her ‘’will you zip it!’’ she turned, facing me grinning like a feral cat ‘’whatever you say Claire, but I can smell a rat when I see it’’ she winked once more and strode away to her first patient. I sighed in irritation reaching my first room. Ridding myself of all the past few hours of emotions I squared my shoulders and pushed open the door. 

My breath caught in my throat as I caught a glimpse of red hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks again to all that read the second chapter and commented! It was so nice seeing everyone's reactions and speculations about who this person could be, I hope I do you all justice! Sorry again for the wait for this chapter, law school has really been kicking my ass haha. I hope you all again enjoy this chapter and again let me know what you think! :)

Although the mop of red hair was enough to stop me in my tracks after the events of the morning, what truly took my breath away was my second observation. 

My own whisky shaded eyes staring back at me. 

Having only seen them in my own reflection, or in the sparse faded memories of my father’s face, I couldn’t break my gaze from the hawk like stare of my patient, practically identical to my own. Allowing myself to broaden my vision and taking him into account, I was again surprised to find the same faint look of recognition on his face as well. 

Both regarding each other with a strange semblance of familiarity, I shook off the peculiar tremors running down my spine and focused on my job. Walking forward with his curious gaze following me, I read through his information and my instructions. Removal of a cast for a healing fractured right hand. Easy. I took a moment to collect myself once more before beginning. 

‘‘Good morning Alexander Fraser, my name is Claire and I’m going to be removing your cast today’’ giving my best attempt at a confident smile I began preparing my tools to calm the slight tremor in my hands. 

‘‘Ye can call me Alex ma’am. Alexander is only used by my ma when I’ve caused a strammash’’ he replied with a cheeky grin. In almost 3 minutes of endless surprises I was again caught off-guard by the accent so familiar to my midnight visitor. 

These were all complete coincidences, right? My mind swirled with rationalisations and explanations for the bizarre happenings of the past few minutes. Jesus H Roosevelt Christ. I must be going bloody mad. ‘‘Get a grip Beauchamp’’ I muttered before turning to Alex with my well-practiced nurses façade on in full force. 

Meeting his direct gaze, I began. ‘‘Let’s get that hand looked at shall we?’’ Grabbing the scissors, I started to cut away at the coverings, ignoring the intense look he was giving me. Covering up my unease, I tried to break his unnerving observation. ‘‘So Alex, how did you come to break your hand?’’ 

Pulled out of his revere blushing, he grinned again, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. ‘‘It got crushed under a barrel’’ seeing my perplexed look he continued, distracted ‘‘Weel, I was helping out me mam and da with the family whisky business, I was sent to sell some casks down in London and one thing led to another…’’ he trailed of reverting back to his captivated stare. 

Halfway through the opening of his cast and avoiding eye contact, I probed further to direct his attention away from me. 

‘‘Has the business been in your family long then?’’ This strangely seemed to startle him to the point that I looked back up and saw a faint look of alarm come over his features. He seemed to choose his words carefully before starting again. 

‘‘Tis a grand story ye ken, one that’s been in my family for generations. My farther learnt it from his father, and on and on and on back.’’ He paused. ‘‘After the battle of Culloden my great grandsire James Fraser fought to keep our family estate Lallybroch afloat after the highland clearings that the British imposed. He started to illegally brew his own whiskey with the help of his family and tenants and distributed it illicitly to anyone willing to pay a price. With the help of his wife it grew into a grand business and the rest you can say is history’’ he finished with a far-off look. 

Momentarily ceasing cutting, strangely enraptured in the story for an odd reason I asked ‘‘What did his wife do to help?’’ 

He looked at me with a knowing grin on his face, leaned closer and whispered ‘‘She knew things that no one else did, some say she was a witch.’’ 

A chill ran up my spine. He was obviously a born storyteller, like most scots, but something about his story seemed hauntingly familiar. ‘‘Well, was she?’’ I pressed further 

Leaning back, he continued smugly. ‘‘There are many legends surrounding great grannie Fraser’’ he stated intently. ‘‘There are those that say she was a witch, others say a faerie, but she was a verra powerful healer and an Englishwoman no less.’’ He chuckled and I smiled genuinely in return for the first time in the day, charmed by his charisma. Snipping the last of the cast off I set the scissors down and began to remove it, when he unexpectedly started again with an odd tone to his voice. 

‘‘The one thing that no one questions is that they loved each other, verra much’’ his he looked up into my eyes, suddenly serious. ‘‘They were captivated by each other right from the beginning, and nothing could come between them, not even the devil himself’’ he smiled softly ‘‘My da says their souls knew each other from another lifetime.’’ 

My breath suddenly came out short, bewildered as to why this affected me so much. I returned my focus to removing his cast, trying to show no outward signs of distress. Removing it completely I took hold of his hand and closed my eyes, examining the healed fractures physically. 

Just before I gave the all clear something felt out of place. Opening my eyes and looking down, I singled out his pinkie finger. 

It was crooked at the tip, just like mine. I opened up my right hand inconspicuously and my smallest finger found its twin pair. I looked up once more to this whisky eyed stranger in utter bewilderment. How can someone seem so familiar, yet having never met them before in my life? 

The residual panic arose once more within me. The combination of the emotional turmoil of the morning and my lack of sleep caused my vision to blur and then. 

Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!


End file.
